HAVEN
by LuvEwan
Summary: A weary Master and Padawan take a (mostly) peaceful respite.


Haven By: LuvEwan  
  
^^^^*^^^^  
  
The night had reached the climactic point, blue sky veiled by thick darkness, glittering white jewels imbedded in the black depths.  
  
A sliver of a moon was amongst the spectacle, casting a yellow glow upon the sleeping city.  
  
The extension of its illuminating fingers invaded the Temple, quiet and still in this hour of slumber. Soft incandescence bathed the youthful face in unwavering, natural light.  
  
Qui-Gon Jinn leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms over a broad chest. Even his strong, distinctly masculine features were made mild by the midnight twinkling. He watched his apprentice rest.  
  
The recent weeks had been trying, busied by intense assignments and higher training. Exhaustion had steadily built in the twenty year old, shadowing his eyes and slowing his steps. He concealed that mounting weariness with smiles and bursts of energized movements.  
  
The master knew better than to be fooled by the earnest attempts, however admirable they were.  
  
He too was tired.  
  
They were Jedi, and their levels of tolerance were considerably higher than most. They could endure more than the average being with minimal consequence to physical and mental form.  
  
Of course, despite a certain Padawan's arguments, a Jedi's limits could be, and were continually, reached. Even the strongest soul deserved solace and the chance to recover.  
  
Qui-Gon realized he should be in bed himself, for the hour was late and his body ached. Obi-Wan would surely sleep the remainder of the night.  
  
So why was he not content?  
  
The younger man stirred, the blankets rustling as he turned onto his side. A wisp of ginger hair fell to his cheek.  
  
Qui-Gon padded to his bedside and sat on the mattress, creating a rather loud creak.  
  
Obi-Wan's long, pale lashes fluttered. A groggy sigh slipped from barely parted lips. A frown furrowed his brows and left a deep line between them. "Hmmm.mmm.ph."  
  
His observer chuckled lightly. A large hand brushed against his forehead, a hand roughened by harsh winds and callused from years of protecting those he neither knew nor loved. The same hand that could offer such gentle comfort in warm, tender touches. The hand that had healed this child, on dead patches of grass of some barren battlefield, and in this room.  
  
Though he knew, somewhere beyond fervent denials, that this was not a child before him.  
  
It was not the ripple of muscles or the thin stubble so easily formed on round cheeks that told him so.  
  
It was beyond biological advances, deeper than merely shedding youthful innocence.  
  
Qui-Gon traced a jagged, faded line that marred his apprentice's back. An ugly mark earned by defending an ailing infant during fierce territorial conflict. Severely wounded by the quick vibro-shiv, Obi-Wan had displayed remarkable valiance, waiting until the sobbing babe was secured in another's safe hold before collapsing. The last words that passed from his numbing mouth were 'Why a child?'  
  
As Qui-Gon had gathered him, resting that limp body against his sturdier one, he was forced to ponder the same thing.  
  
For a Jedi was never considered a child, possessing the right to dream or give to instances of pure silliness. Or to abandon all their lessons in composure, and simply cry.  
  
No. A Jedi was rarely innocent.  
  
But his apprentice had been.  
  
Even when the cruelest of tortures, creative and harsh, were inflicted upon him, he clung to that guileless aura, let it flood him, and protect the sensitive soul within.  
  
For a long while, it had worked.  
  
Qui-Gon could admit here, in the unquestioning silence, that he had wanted his Padawan to mature. If he were to have remained the sweetly untainted youth he was, it would have been a powerful danger. And, mission after harrowing mission, the tenuous grasp Obi-Wan held on naivete was loosened.  
  
He studied the smooth hand, palm up, fingers spread out on the silky blanket, as his protégé slept.  
  
Yes, Obi-Wan Kenobi had surely let go.  
  
Now, struggling against the realization, Qui-Gon was not satisfied. In place of innocence came grim experience. One day, the master predicted, his bright Obi-Wan would be as weathered as he.  
  
Perhaps more so.  
  
And suddenly, the press of an uncertain future became too much to endure.  
  
Qui-Gon leaned down, ruffling hair dappled with beads of purity's light.  
  
Obi-Wan's eyes were slowly revealed, peeking out from drooping lids, brilliant, cerulean slits amid the dark. "Master?"  
  
The hoarse whisper caused the aging man to smile. "Padawan." It seemed he had little else to say for the moment, as his mind spun.  
  
"Is something the matter?" Obi-Wan asked, propping himself up on elbows, concern etched in handsome, rather boyish features.  
  
Qui-Gon touched his cheek, and was prepared to soothe the other's worries. But a shiver raced up his spine. Certainty hardened in his gaze. "Yes."  
  
Obi-Wan sat up completely, the covers slipping from him, and he looked intently at his mentor, waiting for explanation.  
  
He would be disappointed. For now, Qui-Gon could not offer reasoning. "Get dressed. I'll be at the door."  
  
Obi-Wan didn't have the time to consider what the man had planned, what the trouble was. He hastily pulled on a rumpled tunic and leggings, grabbed his boots, and joined his teacher.  
  
^^^^*^^^^  
  
The Temple hangar was deserted. Glow rods provided dim light, so the two could make their way to a small ship.  
  
It was a sleek little vehicle, shining silver in the near-black.  
  
There wasn't an attendant, but the Jedi weren't fools. Only masters were allowed to use the transports, after punching in a security code.  
  
Master Jinn keyed his in now.  
  
Obi-Wan stood patiently beside him, rubbing the heal of his hand at his eyes, wiping away the remnants of his interrupted slumber. He was past the time of weary confusion, well into alertness, though he was weaving on his feet.  
  
Qui-Gon noticed. He turned to his protégé. "You can sleep on the way."  
  
Obi-Wan's head snapped up, a blush blooming on his cheeks. "I'm fine, Master." He swept his hair back and stood straighter.  
  
The hatch popped open, slowly descending a ramp.  
  
They walked up, their steps echoing amid the silence. "You needn't do such things, Padawan."  
  
Obi-Wan's heart quickened. He didn't mind being corrected, but he hated when his Master was forced to point out faults. He didn't doubt Qui-Gon cared for him, though he harbored insecurity from their early days together. Anything he accomplished that was short of perfection irked him. Because he suspected it irritated his teacher. "What, Master?"  
  
"That."  
  
Obi-Wan struggled not to crinkle his nose. "What, Master? I don't understand."  
  
Qui-Gon sealed the hatch and strolled to the cockpit, leading his apprentice by the shoulder. "I know you're tired, Obi-Wan. I am, too. We are both exhausted. So why do you feel compelled to hide such a base, human need?"  
  
Obi-Wan swallowed. Fiercely intelligent eyes were secured to him. He was floundering, searching for a response that would evoke respect, or at the least satisfaction. "I----I don't know---"  
  
Qui-Gon smiled, tenderness etched in his visage. Affection lilted an otherwise deep voice. "Yes you do." He whispered, and turned to set the coordinates. "Go lay down while I set everything."  
  
"But I could do---"  
  
"A sweet offer, Obi-Wan. But you don't even know where we are going."  
  
The apprentice stood there dumbly, limbs suddenly heavy and thoughts hazing.  
  
Qu-Gon placed his arm around the slumped shoulders and walked to the ship's lone bedroom, the younger man following without protest.  
  
The sleepcouch was large, with simple white linens and plump pillows.  
  
To Obi-Wan, it looked like a lavish paradise. At the moment, anywhere that was soft and cushioned was his dream. His sore body throbbed for it. He stifled his longing, shrugging out of Qui-Gon's touch.  
  
"Master, " He said huskily, accent thickened by weariness. "This is more than I require. The sofa in the main room is sufficient---"  
  
Qui-Gon was already shaking his head. "I don't want to hear anymore. We will be having a long talk tomorrow , you best be well rested for it."  
  
That was enough for Obi-Wan to sink into submission. He sat on the bed, kicked off his boots, and settled beneath the coverlet.  
  
Qui-Gon's mouth upturned. "Isn't that better than a short sofa you would have spent half the night trying not to fall off of?"  
  
"Yes, Master.But what about you?"  
  
A hand brushed across his forehead. "Don't worry about me, Obi. Just get some sleep."  
  
Obi-Wan smiled loosely. He loved the nickname from his childhood, especially when his Master used it. It lent a sense of casualty and closeness. "Yes.Mas."  
  
His eyes slipped close.  
  
^^^^*^^^^  
  
Qui-Gon crept into the room. A fan whirled at a calm speed. He smirked. His apprentice was inclined to a cool breeze while he slept.  
  
He remembered visiting the creche' to catch up with an old friend who occasionally tended to the younglings. Small cribs lined both walls, plush and purest white. She was seated in a very old-fashioned rocker. A tiny child, no more than two, was curled against her. Her long braided hair brushed against the little flushed cheek, and the tot batted playfully at it.  
  
Qui-Gon had laughed softly, balancing on a battered ottoman while continuing to gaze down at the sleepy boy. "He's so small."  
  
She smiled, eyes fond as she tended to the now fussing sprite. "Yes. A bit smaller than the others. Of course, I think that just adds to his natural charm." She tickled the chin, where drool was drying.  
  
Qui-Gon reached out, and smoothed his hand over soft russet locks. "You're right about that." He leaned back. "Whew, it's kind of warm in here, don't you think?"  
  
"I haven't noticed."  
  
"Well, I guess that cold heart of yours is good for something. You always seem at perfect temperature, while I bake." He fished in his tunic, retrieving a cotton handkerchief. He started to fan himself.  
  
The child tittered, rolling to face the bearded Master, wide, glittering eyes, the color of Heaven's rivers, fixed on him.  
  
"Oh, you like that , little one?" Qui-Gon chuckled. He scooted closer, and waved the cloth in front of the round face.  
  
The child squealed with delight. Pleasant waves of air ruffled his hair.  
  
Tahl's eyes, striped with glinting gold and green, were glowing. "Seems you two have something in common, Qui."  
  
He glanced up at her. There was a strange lightness in his heart. "I suppose we do."  
  
His only keepsakes of that treasured meeting was his vivid recollection. Sometimes he regretted not having other means of capturing the moments.  
  
Qui-Gon positioned the device so that he had a clear shot of his resting Padawan through the lens.  
  
Smiling absently, the Master took the picture.  
  
^^^^*^^^^  
  
Obi-Wan opened his eyes slowly, the fringes of sleep blurring the edges of his vision. He glanced out the window, then realized this was space, and constant black was never an indication of the hour. Yes. I'm on a ship. But why? That's what I'm gonna find out if I have to beat my sneaky Master over the head with my saber hilt.  
  
As if on cue, Qui-Gon walked in, freshly washed and carrying a tray laden with food.  
  
Obi-Wan breathed in the tantalizing, warm aromas and smiled, sitting up. He rubbed the remnants of slumber from his eyes. "You made breakfast? Pinch me, I must be dreaming." He spied his favorite pastry among the dishes. His stomach growled. "Well, wait 'til I finish." He plucked the delectable sweet from the platter.  
  
Qui-Gon chuckled, sitting on the bed, and popped a round, juicy fruit in his mouth.  
  
"Mmmmm." Obi-Wan managed between bites. He scooted over to make room for his Master to stretch out.  
  
"Thank you, Padawan."  
  
"Mmmhmmm." He replied while licking his fingers in satisfaction.  
  
They sat shoulder to shoulder, enjoying the array of delicious morning treats and gulping down juice.  
  
Once he had his fill, Obi-Wan folded his hands over his stomach and smiled. He looked up at Qui-Gon, his face softened. "Master," He began quietly, "Where are we going? Why are you doing all this?"  
  
Qui-Gon set the emptied tray aside. He studied the focused features, the eyes that were painted with the shifting colors of a glittering sea. Then he reached out, and combed his fingers through smooth, spiked hair. "I will explain when the time is right. For now, just revel in this time we have, without missions, without training." He sighed. "Without worry."  
  
A gentle smile graced Obi-Wan's mouth. "Yes, Master." The hand fell to his cheek, and began to stroke it.  
  
The young man wasn't sure, but he thought he saw the gleam of tears in those familiar, deep blue eyes.  
  
"Just cherish the time we have together."  
  
^^^^*^^^^  
  
Larana Four was a tiny speck of a planet, nestled between its two larger brethren, on a far fringe of the Republic. It was a near paradise, with a small population and warm weather. Qui-Gon sat in the cockpit, staring at the approaching land. Home.  
  
He had not visited the place in years, yet it didn't fade in his memory. He still recalled the lush forests and clear, cool brooks of his early childhood home.  
  
"Master?"  
  
Obi-Wan stood in the doorway. He was showered and neatly dressed.  
  
Qui-Gon swung around in his chair, smiling at him. "We're here, Padawan."  
  
His voice was a rich rumble, but held weary undertones that concerned the apprentice. "Where's here again, Master? I think you've neglected to inform me."  
  
"Ah, I suppose now or never." He patted the seat beside him.  
  
Obi-Wan eagerly plopped down, attention already raptly centered on the man.  
  
"Why don't you ever seem this interested when I'm lecturing?"  
  
The younger Jedi laughed. A harmonious sound that filled the space. "I don't know, Master. Mysterious trips to foreign planets might be a tad more exciting than the effect of shifting powers in parliament." He deadpanned.  
  
Qui-Gon shook his head. "My poor misguided child.But returning to the subject, we are going to be staying on Larana Four for awhile. It is a gorgeous planet, Padawan. The air is the sweetest that you could ever find in the Universe. Mostly untainted by the surrounding worlds. It is where I was born. Where my parents." His eyes dropped momentarily to the floor. "Where they once lived."  
  
Obi-Wan nodded, compassion flooding his gaze. He remembered his Master receiving the news of his mother and father's demise in a shocking, violent crash. Qui-Gon handled it well, but the Padawan knew him well enough to realize when he was deeply hurt. His Master had grieved for a day. And never mentioned his birth parents again.  
  
"I was their only child. When they--" He cleared his throat. "Passed on, I received a note from their estate manager. He informed me I inherited their small cottage. They lived there for years." He leaned forward, and gripped Obi-Wan's hands in his. "I want to take you there, my Padawan. I would like to see the cottage."  
  
Obi-Wan smiled, returning the gentle pressure. "I would like to see it as well, Master." He replied softly.  
  
^^^^*^^^^  
  
They walked along a cobblestone path. A gentle breeze rippled their hair. The sun beat down on the pair, but it was a pleasant, encompassing warmth. Grassy hills stretched past the golden horizon. Glorious, thick trees reached for the cloudless sky.  
  
Obi-Wan was left breathless by this vibrant, lively perfection. Each fallen leaf seemed to sparkle with the drying remnants of morning dew. He glanced up at his Master, who was deeply entranced by the splendors.  
  
"I can remember this. Not well. It's very hazy, as it happened so many years ago. But still..I can recall this crumbly road. How I was going to visit the lake, and I tripped on a loose stone."  
  
Obi-Wan stifled a smirk. It was difficult to imagine his graceful mentor in a moment of clumsiness.  
  
Qui-Gon raised a graying eyebrow. "What's so humorous, Padawan? Are you recalling the time you left the lavatory a slippery mess after your shower, and proceeded to slide across the floor, in nothing but your towel, eyes wider than a Malastaire moon---"  
  
"NO!" A furious blush bloomed on his cheeks. "I was just.thinking of.uh.you as a child. It's odd to picture that sort of thing..Master."  
  
Qui-Gon laughed. "My, how my teachings have allowed you to grow. A year ago, you would never have been able to lie so well!"  
  
Obi-Wan's eyes narrowed. He managed to quell the urge to grin. "I'll be waiting in the transport."  
  
^^^^*^^^^  
  
The cottage was quaint, with blue shingle roofing and a yellow exterior. Two windows bracketed the old world door, the paint peeling from the shutters.  
  
Obi-Wan smiled. It was an extreme rarity to see a house, sans the cold, sterile quality of metal and technology. Already he felt at home.  
  
Longing and affection pooled in Qui-Gon's eyes as he studied it. He looked down, and tears began to trickle unnoticed down his bearded cheeks. "Oh, I remember this." The rangy man fell to his knees in front of a bed of flowers. He reached out and touched one of the delicate plants.  
  
They had thin, willowy steams, and pale pink petals.  
  
Obi-Wan stood behind his Master, watching the sunlight gleam in long, graying hair. He marveled silently at this intimidating, powerful man, now taking a fragile bud between his large fingers. One would expect the soft beauty to be crushed by such a strong creature.  
  
But, as the youth saw, Qui-Gon cradled nature's offspring tenderly, his body sloped.  
  
Obi-Wan sank down beside him, the dirt staining his leggings.  
  
"My mother planted these. I remember my father, plucking the blossoms from the stems, and placing them in her hair. She had flowing brown hair."  
  
Obi-Wan nodded. "I don't remember my mother."  
  
Qui-Gon released the flower, and gently wiped the moisture from his companion's face. Obi-Wan hadn't realized he had been crying as well.  
  
"I'm sorry, Obi-Wan." The man whispered.  
  
The tears glazed luminous eyes. He sniffed. "Thank you.Qui-Gon."  
  
The older man smiled. "Let's go inside."  
  
^^^^*^^^^  
  
Qui-Gon produced the rusty key from a deep fold of his tunic, and unlocked the door.  
  
Obi-Wan heard him sharply inhale.  
  
It was a small room with a block fireplace. The walls were ivy green. Qui- Gon flicked on the light, and amber spilled in shadows. The floor was thickly carpeted.  
  
"Little has changed." The Master observed, gaze twinkling. He began down the hallway, and his apprentice wove their arms together.  
  
Paintings lined the corridor. Qui-Gon stopped to study them. Each was a depiction of a landscape, every brushstroke visible. In the corner two names were scribbled. Malia and Narob. Qui-Gon ran his fingers along the writing.  
  
"Your parents did these?"  
  
"Yes." He sighed, staring at the cerulean sky displayed in one of the pieces.  
  
"They're very beautiful."  
  
Qui-Gon nodded absently. "Yes."  
  
After a few quiet moments, they continued to the first bedroom, and stood in the doorway.  
  
"My room." The elder man breathed.  
  
A tiny sleepcouch was pushed against the window. Rickety, wooden shelves held a few tattered stuffed animals and trinkets. A single model ship was suspended in the air by clear wire.  
  
A large splash of purple stained the ground. Qui-Gon chuckled. "I spilled pori juice, down my best clothes and it dribbled onto the carpet."  
  
"Master?"  
  
"Hmmm?"  
  
"Um," Obi-Wan looked down, embarrassed to be asking. "How can you remember so much?"  
  
Qui-Gon only smiled wider. "I wasn't taken by the Jedi until I was a bit older. Master Yoda championed me, insisting that even a tyke of my age could still start down the Jedi path. He had a soft spot for the underdog."  
  
Just like you. "Master, if, uh, you want to look over the rest in private, I can wait in the main room."  
  
Qui-Gon's joyous expression faded. He turned to address the other. "Why would I want you to do that? You are why I came, Obi-Wan."  
  
Obi-Wan was surprised, and thoroughly pleased, at the response. A flush colored his cheeks.  
  
Qui-Gon patted his shoulder. "Come on."  
  
^^^^*^^^^  
  
Until the moon settled between two wispy clouds, they explored the cottage.  
  
Qui-Gon was admiring a complex design his mother threaded into a heavy quilt when his stomach gurgled. He glanced at Obi-Wan, who seemed content sitting on the floor, knees drawn to his chest, watching his toes wiggle. "Are you hungry?"  
  
Obi-Wan grinned. "Silly question, Master."  
  
The Master placed the tapestry on the bed, and started for the kitchen. "There won't be any food here. We'll need to travel into the city and find a market."  
  
The apprentice groaned.  
  
Qui-Gon frowned. "What?"  
  
"Now I have to put on my boots."  
  
^^^^*^^^^  
  
Qui-Gon paused in his reading to look up at Obi-Wan. "You know, Padawan, you really shouldn't go around barefoot."  
  
The youth was laying with his head dangling off the side of an overstuffed armchair, feet in the air. "Why?"  
  
"Because," The Master replied "I would rather not die from the stench."  
  
Obi-Wan twisted himself to a sitting position. "Why, Master? Do you hate the smell of sweet perfume?"  
  
"Of course not, Padawan. I quite enjoy it. But rotting bantha is another story entirely."  
  
"What?!" Obi-Wan cried incredulously. His eyes were wide and dancing with humor. "I've always prided myself in my aromatic feet! Obviously you've never taken a whiff of your own."  
  
Qui-Gon dropped his holopad. "What are you talking about?" He asked in mock suspicion.  
  
Obi-Wan giggled. "You think one rotting bantha is bad, try TWELVE of them!"  
  
"Ha ha ha. You are quite the comedian, Padawan. That reminds me of something I've been meaning to ask you."  
  
"What?"  
  
"How you would prefer to be buried."  
  
Obi-Wan leaned against the chair's arm, laughing in earnest.  
  
"Careful. Don't break a rib."  
  
He chuckled harder, and toppled onto the floor.  
  
"Or your head."  
  
^^^^*^^^^  
  
Obi-Wan sat the heavy paper bags on the counter and plucked a packaged hunk of cheese from the contents. "Mm. My favorite."  
  
Qui-Gon removed the plastic from the cheap silverware he purchased. "Since it's your favorite, you wouldn't mind fixing dinner, would you?"  
  
He saw desperation written on the leonine features. Obi-Wan smirked. Force but he hates to cook. "Remember that time when I tried to bake you that batch of cookies for your birthday, and ended up setting off the smoke alarm on the whole floor?"  
  
Qui-Gon winced. "Good point, Padawan."  
  
Obi-Wan pulled the rest of the food from the containers. "We can do it together. I mean, it's just cooking. How hard can it be?"  
  
"Coming from the person who can burn ice cream, that's not very comforting, Obi-Wan."  
  
"It's cheese on potatoes. I think we can manage it."  
  
"Perhaps I should have the fire department on alert."  
  
"Just full of that sarcasm, aren't you, Master? Well, while you're sitting around joking, I'm going to prepare a dish fit for a King."  
  
"Hmmm. Perfect, since I'll be eating it."  
  
Obi-Wan balled up the bag and threw it at the man. "I think you'll have to settle for court jester, Master."  
  
Qui-Gon dodged the flying object, and ruffled the ginger spikes. "Only if you're the Prince."  
  
"Flattery's not going to save you. Start peeling."  
  
^^^^*^^^^  
  
Obi-Wan stood at the stove, hands on his hips, staring down.  
  
His eyes were as round as blue saucers. His mouth hung open. "Sith." He swore in a near-daze.  
  
Qui-Gon stopped pouring the juice, distantly registering that his apprentice's soft accent seemed to erase the obscenity of any word. He looked up. "What?"  
  
The dread was unmistakable in his voice.  
  
Obi-Wan shook his head in bewilderment. "The potatoes look like a pile of.charcoal."  
  
Qui-Gon saw the gleaming sweat on the youth's forehead from the time spent in careful preparation. Then he glanced at the mess of black. A smile tugged at his lips. "You are cursed, Padawan. Pure and simple."  
  
Obi-Wan glared at him. "I am not amused."  
  
The Master chuckled, walking over to the steaming skillet. He eyed the potatoes, arms crossed. "They can't be that bad." He sprinkled a bit of the shredded cheese on top, and shoveled some into his mouth.  
  
Obi-Wan watched him guardedly, but hope straightened his posture slightly.  
  
I was wrong. Qui-Gon lamented, as the horrid muck slid slowly down his throat. He quelled the incredibly strong urge to grimace, and swallowed. Hard. "You see?" His voice was weak, and he gulped again, smiling. "Nothing's the matter with it."  
  
Obi-Wan peered suspiciously at him. "What about all the blackened part?"  
  
"It.uh.gives it character." Qui-Gon stammered.  
  
"Food isn't supposed to have character, Master. Just flavor. So, what's the flavor like?"  
  
A soggy, soiled stocking. "Well, it's very distinct."  
  
"Come on."  
  
"Why are you asking me? There is quite a large portion left, Obi-Wan. Why don't you sample it for yourself?"  
  
Obi-Wan, never one to reject a challenge, took a dainty spoonful, and lifted it, opening his mouth. He hesitated.  
  
Qui-Gon frowned. "What's wrong, Padawan? Don't you want to try your culinary masterpiece?"  
  
Obi-Wan sealed his eyes against the pungent stench and grabbed the cheese, pouring a hefty pile onto the utensil. "Of course I do." He took a bite.  
  
And immediately spit it onto the floor.  
  
Qui-Gon jumped back. "Obi-Wan! "  
  
Obi-Wan threw the spoon onto the counter and sprinted for the gallon of juice. He guzzled some down, then wiped the dribble of orange from his chin, coughing. "Ugh, Master. How did you eat that?!!!"  
  
Qui-Gon smiled. "I plugged my nose.And thought of how much I love you."  
  
^^^^*^^^^  
  
Luckily for the failed chef , his companion had used his intuition---and common sense---while at the market earlier that day.  
  
They sat on the comfy, faded sofa in the main room, munching on sandwiches.  
  
Obi-Wan paused, glancing at Qui-Gon. "Master, why did you get these? Didn't you trust me?"  
  
Qui-Gon squeezed his shoulder. "Of course I trust you, Padawan. You are responsible, and dependable, and very amiable.  
  
"I just didn't want you to go hungry tonight."  
  
^^^^*^^^^  
  
A bird with snowy, fragile wings perched on a willow tree beside the window, singing a sweet harmony of twilight.  
  
A single lamp illuminated the humble room, and provided a warmth to the pair.  
  
"Is that you?" Obi-Wan pointed to a picture with torn, yellowed edges of a tiny boy running with a homemade kite, pudgy feet sinking into the grass.  
  
Qui-Gon removed it from the plastic covering and examined it closely. "Yeah. That's me when I was about two."  
  
Obi-Wan grinned. "Awwww. You're missing a tooth." He laughed.  
  
Qui-Gon slipped it into place. "You'll be missing a few in a minute if you don't watch it."  
  
Obi-Wan leaned back in feigned defense. "I'm just saying it's very cute."  
  
The older man snorted. "I don't think anyone's called me cute in a long while."  
  
"That's because they're blinded by my grace and charm. They don't really notice you."  
  
Qui-Gon punched him lightly . "Is that so? I assumed they were blinded by that ugly mug."  
  
Obi-Wan rubbed his arm. "The teeth come out and the gloves come off." He grumbled.  
  
The Master smiled, pulling his apprentice against him.  
  
Obi-Wan rested his head against the muscular, but oddly cushioning, chest. He felt Qui-Gon's chin lain on the silken, russet locks.  
  
He breathed out.  
  
Qui-Gon held him smugly in his arms. "Let's look at the next page, shall we?"  
  
Obi-Wan just nodded.  
  
^^^^*^^^^  
  
The fire crackled, leaving jumpy shadows on the wall.  
  
Qui-Gon sat and watched the ember melt in a liquid orange display. The scrapbook was open on the large table, various pictures strewn across the wood surface. Empty mugs sat, leaking moisture in rings.  
  
I should really clean up. He thought, heaving a lazy sigh, as the sleeping form pressed a cheek against his stomach.  
  
He planted a gentle, tender kiss in the gleaming ginger mane. "Nobody could ever accuse you of being a night owl." He whispered, then chuckled lightly. "Or a morning person for that matter."  
  
Obi-Wan had occasionally fallen to slumber this way, though it had been long ago, when he was a child, small enough to curl on his Master's lap, if he had wanted.  
  
He was still compact, but his body had filled to muscular pleasantry, and his length took up the whole of the couch.  
  
It pleased Qui-Gon deeply, stirred a great affection in him, to know that Obi-Wan could shed his mature pride, and sleep in his Master's care, in his father's arms.  
  
He reached out his hand, Force-suggesting the light switch to flick off.  
  
Then Qui-Gon leaned back, careful not to disturb his apprentice, and pulled the quilt draped over the couch on them.  
  
He smiled, as the troubles and concerns floated from his awareness, the warmth of his beloved son all-encompassing. He surrendered gratefully to dreams.  
  
^^^^*^^^^  
^^^^*^^^^ Obi-Wan's eyes slowly opened. His head was laying on a sturdy, but soft, cushion. A cloying warmth blew against his neck, and he looked up blearily.  
  
Qui-Gon smiled, stroking his cheek. "Good morning."  
  
Obi-Wan blinked, then rubbed his eyes. "Wha?" He asked in a groggy, husky voice. He glanced around the room, noticing his arm was sprawled across his Master's chest. A flush bloomed on his cheeks, illustrating a shaky embarrassment, but only increasing his unkempt charm, this temperate, early day beauty.  
  
"You fell asleep while we were still going through the albums. You've been so exhausted lately, I didn't want to disturb you."  
  
Obi-Wan's cerulean eyes glittered, the bright, chagrin color draining from his face. "Thank you." Though his muscles screamed to stretch, he returned his head to its unusual cradle and yawned.  
  
"Oh, come on. Don't tell me you're still tired?"  
  
"Okay----I won't."  
  
Qui-Gon further mussed already tousled hair. "You're ridiculous. You know that, right?"  
  
Obi-Wan sighed, the measured rises and falls of his Master's chest lulling him again. "I've been told." He murmured. The sun bled through the curtains, spilling heat on his skin. "I choose to ignore it." A hand began to rub soothing circles along his back. His eyes sealed. "Please, Master. If I get any more comfortable, I'm gonna sink into a coma."  
  
"I don't think you need any help doing that. Remember, after you had the Roobeniz flu on Alderaan? You slept through the coronation, the planet- wide celebration, and the transport trip home."  
  
There was no answer, save a light snore.  
  
Qui-Gon held him closer, chuckling very quietly. "You see? Ridiculous."  
  
^^^^*^^^^  
  
A few hours later, the Master opened his eyes, and blinked.  
  
The healthy shine of a day in its glorious prime nearly blinded him. He grumbled, shading himself with a hand, pulling the blinds closed.  
  
He propped himself on his elbows, mouth stretching in a satisfied yawn. It has to be at least ten years since I've slept so long and well.  
  
He contemplated sinking down to the pillow for a while more, then he realized a welcomed weight was no longer supported by his body. Qui-Gon's eyebrow curled. OBI-WAN woke before I did? It can't be. He must have moved to a bed so he could sprawl across it like a slob. He smirked.  
  
That happy expression faded when he smelled something, wafting from an area he was now seriously thinking of forbidding his apprentice from. His stomach roiled in anticipation.  
  
"Obi-Wan?" He called, the fear bleeding through into his wobbly, cautious voice.  
  
The reply was very nearly a sing-song. "I'm in here, Master."  
  
Qui-Gon cringed. He walked, slowly, toward the kitchen. "Um, what are you doing in there, Padawan?"  
  
"Oh, you'll see."  
  
The excitement in that reply was horrifying. Maybe he really has cooked a stocking this time.  
  
He entered the small room, and found a beaming apprentice, and a plate stacked with.  
  
Toast.  
  
Qui-Gon exhaled, hiding his relief, and strode up to Obi-Wan. "I believe you have finally mastered a section of the culinary arts, Obi-Wan. This looks quite appetizing."  
  
Obi-Wan grinned. "Thank you, Master. I saw a recipe for 'Vabrillto Spice Omelet' ."  
  
The Master's breath caught sharply in his throat. Oh no, this is only an appetizer.  
  
"But," Obi-Wan held up a hand, "We don't have any exotic spices that the recipe calls for. Sorry if I disappointed you."  
  
Qui-Gon patted his shoulder. "No, Obi-Wan. This is more than fine." He picked up a piece of the buttered bread. As he looked at it closer, he saw there were several layers of the yellow spread. "Padawan, you certainly caked that on."  
  
Obi-Wan shrugged, laughing in a light spurt. "Guess I just wanted to give it extra flavor."  
  
Qui-Gon smiled at him, then sunk his teeth into it.  
  
Oh..Sith.  
  
He quelled the shudder that threatened to run through his body.  
  
It tastes like charcoal.  
  
Buttered charcoal.  
  
Qui-Gon calmly sat the toast down. "Obi-Wan, were you, by any chance, still asleep when you made this bread?"  
  
Obi-Wan lowered his eyes. "No, it only got a little done on one side."  
  
Qui-Gon crossed his arms. "A little done?"  
  
The young Jedi heaved a breath. "Okay. I put the bread in the toasting unit, and sat down to wait. I only closed my eyes for a second---"  
  
Jinn turned the half-eaten food over, revealing a pure black side.  
  
Obi-Wan winced. "Maybe I should.get some.jam?"  
  
"Yes. A gallon jar, if possible."  
  
^^^^*^^^^  
  
Surprisingly, Qui-Gon wasn't rushed to the hospital for food poisoning, and after the kitchen escapades, he left his chagrined Padawan to clean up while he showered.  
  
Half an hour later found them walking along a pebble-lined path, the sun spilling on their shoulders.  
  
Obi-Wan gazed out at the grassy hills. A warmth filled his heart, inexplicable and uplifting, causing him to smile.  
  
Qui-Gon glanced at him, chuckling under his breath. "In a good mood, I take it."  
  
The apprentice looked up at him, beaming, eyes even more breathtaking with the golden glints of day. "You grow up on Coruscant, become accustomed to the artificiality, and bright, blinking lights. Then you come here.and, "He sighed, shaking his head, "You understand what life should really be like."  
  
Qui-Gon slowed. "What do you mean, Padawan?"  
  
Obi-Wan flushed. He was instantly afraid he had spoken too freely, that the clean, soft atmosphere had led him to falsely believe that anything could be revealed, and accepted. "I---I just think that if there were less violence, and peace replaced injustice, and the Jedi were not needed." He stared down at his boots, "That time should be spent this way, surrounded by this." Obi-Wan swallowed, falling silent, awaiting reprove.  
  
Qui-Gon squeezed his shoulder. He studied this man, so very young and glowing with a compassionate, achingly beautiful aura. His love suddenly swelled in his chest. "This may surprise you, Obi-Wan. But that's the way all Jedi desire things to be. It's how the Universe should be for everyone."  
  
Dulled eyes fell. "How it will never be." He said quietly under his breath.  
  
Qui-Gon nodded, studying the expanse of nature's glory encompassing him. "That's true. That is why, my young apprentice, we must dream sometimes." He brushed his fingertips under those ocean-kissed eyes. "The world makes us weary. This life---this road---is a tiring one.  
  
"If we do not allow ourselves to dream, what would become of our souls?"  
  
Obi-Wan considered that, sculpted lips pursed, brow furrowed. Then he met his Master's gentle gaze., and the desolation written in his features was piercing. "What's to become of us here, Qui-Gon?" He rasped, voice weakened. " We're only torturing our souls with these dreams."  
  
Abruptly, the younger man walked away, stalking over to a willow tree. There he sat, hands over his face, with long, drooping leaves hovering around him, drowning Obi-Wan in shadow.  
  
^^^^*^^^^  
  
Qui-Gon remained apart from him for a time, reluctant to further shatter this fragile child by treading too far into his personal space.  
  
Especially since he was the cause of.whatever this was. Qui-Gon took a single step closer, watching the quivering of Obi-Wan's shoulders under thick tunic. His instinctive reaction was to sweep the suffering apprentice in his arms, and soothe him with meaningless murmurs.  
  
But the Master had a feeling this pain was not the sort to be eased by a gentle touch or kind word---this was the pain that resided in shadowy corridors of Obi-Wan's heart. Because a Jedi did not voice such beliefs off-handedly, in casual conversation. This was tore from the young man's soul, simply due to the fact he could hide it no longer.  
  
Qui-Gon took several more steps, until he was near him, and sank down against the rough, old tree.  
  
Obi-Wan shuddered, scooting an inch away.  
  
Qui-Gon ignored the pang of hurt in his chest. "Obi-Wan."  
  
The apprentice seemed to have rebounded to his usual obedience, he looked up at the hulking figure, despite the tears streaming from red-threaded eyes. His cheeks burned furiously with shame. "Y-Yes?"  
  
And at that moment, Qui-Gon was certain he couldn't speak of this yet. The wound was fresh in that beautiful, desolate gaze. It needed time.  
  
Obi-Wan needed a little time.  
  
Qui-Gon turned to the small, sparkling stream before them. A tiny, rueful smile played across his lips. "You know what that is, Obi-Wan?" He pointed.  
  
Obi-Wan shook his head slowly, wiping the rivulets from his cheeks.  
  
Qui-Gon rose to his feet, with a quiet pop of his knees. He walked to the calm waters and stared down, waiting.  
  
Obi-Wan followed, as expected, coming to a stop at the Master's massive shoulder.  
  
"This is where I came as a boy, alone, walking along the edge, laughing when I would begin to teeter towards the water. I never fell in, I knew I was safe, but it was fun just the same. I would look at my reflection, broken by the waves, face stretched out. Sometimes I just sat here and watched the water journey by, wondering how far it would go." He glanced at Obi-Wan, smiling fondly. "How far I might go someday."  
  
Obi-Wan's depressed countenance was unchanged, so Qui-Gon crouched down. "When I was told I was to leave for Coruscant, leave my family and my home, I came here one last time. I reached into the cool river, and pulled out a rock. Smooth and gleaming and very nearly perfect." He was silently pleased when Obi-Wan sunk to his level, knees close to the moist grass blades. "I kept it. Throughout my training, even as a Master, I carried it safely against my heart. It was cold then, I think it was waiting, because my heart wasn't stirring any warmth in it."  
  
He slipped his hand into Obi-Wan's tunic, where he knew the stone would be, and pulled it out gently.  
  
Obi-Wan looked at it, a speck in a giant palm.  
  
"I see it now, and it's perfect. I feel it, and it's very warm, my Padawan."  
  
Obi-Wan's teeth clamped down absently on his lip. He took the treasure from the outstretched hand, crimson veins in the black surface deep and breathtaking. Slowly, he curled his fingers around it.  
  
Qui-Gon touched his cheek briefly, then stood. "Come, the day is still young."  
  
^^^^*^^^^  
  
And as the day aged, until a pale pink tint bled into the sky, Master and apprentice explored the paradise.  
  
They had followed the river to a small, secluded area populated by lush, towering trees. Trees that had, as Obi-Wan learned, been the nesting place for a particularly moody group of insects.  
  
He rubbed the bites on his neck, grumbling, while Qui-Gon prepared the evening tea.  
  
"I don't see why they all had to attack me."  
  
Qui-Gon chuckled, carrying the steaming cups into the living room, and placed one in his apprentice's waiting hand.  
  
"Well, try to picture yourself in their shoes, Padawan."  
  
Obi-Wan took a tentative sip. "They don't have shoes, Master."  
  
Qui-Gon rolled his eyes. "Always the comedian, aren't you?"  
  
The apprentice giggled, taking a longer, soothing drink.  
  
The man smiled, and laid his hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder. "Did you enjoy yourself?"  
  
Obi-Wan licked his upper lip. "Yes, it was quite enjoyable.up until I was nearly killed."  
  
"You weren't nearly killed. Not even close, my overly dramatic apprentice."  
  
The utterly handsome face grew indignant. "Easy for you to say. If I recall correctly, you were considerably far away from the swarm, and perfectly content to watch me suffer."  
  
Qui-Gon laughed hard at that, midnight blue eyes brimming with mirth. "Suffer? Puh-leeze. What kind of a lightweight have I raised who can't handle a few stings?"  
  
"I wouldn't categorize a hundred as 'a few', Master."  
  
Qui-Gon choked on his hot drink, setting it on the table, and wiped the dribbled tea from his mouth, eyes watering. "A hundred?" He asked, incredulous.  
  
"That's right. One hundred stings. Count them if you don't believe me."  
  
"Okay." He pulled Obi-Wan so that he could inspect the back of his neck.  
  
Obi-Wan tried to turn to face him. "Hey! You don't believe me?"  
  
"One.two.three." His voice was flat. "Obi-Wan, there are only three stings here."  
  
Obi-Wan's forehead wrinkled. "No, that can't be right. There has to be." He ran his fingers carefully along the reddened area. "Well, it feels like a hundred." He muttered.  
  
Qui-Gon smiled. "I'm sure it does. And scratching isn't going to help it."  
  
"Says you."  
  
The Master shrugged, and reclined on the sofa. "Alright, do as you wish. I guess you must want scars."  
  
Obi-Wan's hand fell. His visage was carved of stone. "What?"  
  
Qui-Gon bent his arms. He rested his head in his hands. "Oh, scratching will leave nasty scars. That's all. But go ahead, scratch them to your heart's desire. When you're older, you can just grow your hair out a bit to cover them."  
  
Obi-Wan glared openly at him. "You're lying. You're a devious old man looking to frighten a younger, more attractive man because you're jealous. I'm not going to be deceived."  
  
To prove his point, he raked over the raised skin with his nails.  
  
Qui-Gon closed his eyes, laughing. "Maybe I am older, Padawan, but after a few repeats of that, I'll definitely be more attractive."  
  
Obi-Wan grunted in frustration. "You're full of it."  
  
"Oh, and what would 'it' be, if I may ask?"  
  
The student flushed, trying to create a scathing retort, while his teacher continued to find humor in the predicament.  
  
"Well?" Qui-Gon asked finally.  
  
Obi-Wan crossed his arms, turning his head away with counterfeit anger. "Just shut up, old man."  
  
Qui-Gon grinned as he went to fetch medicated cream for the bites.  
  
^^^^*^^^^  
  
Night fell again, settling darkness gently upon the planet, quieting the chirping birds and soothing tired souls.  
  
But Obi-Wan lay awake, hands folded, staring at the ceiling.  
  
Qui-Gon hadn't offered him advice after his embarrassing outburst, didn't force any explanations. He had avoided it entirely.  
  
Obi-Wan had been grateful for that, the emotions were too ragged, he had felt too exposed to speak any further.  
  
They enjoyed a quiet evening, sipping on tea and talking languidly of a pleasant past.  
  
And the unburied pain gnawing at Obi-Wan was kept at bay then, though it inched closer, tugged a little more at him with each passing minute.  
  
The bedroom wasn't musty. In fact, it was rather fragrant, and the blankets snuggled around his body were warm.  
  
It was comfort.  
  
But it wasn't security.  
  
He slipped out of the bed, and padded into the hallway.  
  
Qui-Gon's parents' paintings were dimly illuminated by amber glow rods, highlighting the textured strokes. Their talent was incredible. Every piece displayed simple splendor, the kind they had given to his Master, their greatest love, the most beautiful of their works.  
  
They had known him, and he remembered them. His affection was obvious in the inflection of his rich voice, the way that baritone lowered whenever he spoke of his family.  
  
Obi-Wan was glad Qui-Gon had remnants of a normal childhood to hold onto.  
  
But, he couldn't help but be reminded of what he, Obi-Wan, had never had.  
  
There were smudged recollections that teased him, ghosts of laughter that he couldn't identify, the brush of a paternal hand.  
  
Sometimes, he longed for that ideal existence, sleeping in a house alive with others, sitting by a crackling fire. Or just goofing around in the kitchen, without any immediate cares.  
  
He would never have that.  
  
This place was tormenting him, giving him a sliver of the possibilities, a taste of that happiness.  
  
Soon, it would be gone, and they would return to the sleek, cold steel of Coruscant. Eventually, the time spent here would fade in his mind, until it was reduced to a mere feeling.  
  
Tears pressed at him, and Obi-Wan walked faster, as it all overwhelmed him.  
  
^^^^*^^^^  
  
Qui-Gon sat up, instantly alerted by the door creaking. His eyes, red veins invading the white, narrowed. He could barely make out the familiar form of his apprentice. "Obi-Wan?" He called cautiously. His heart thundered, and his stomach roiled coldly.  
  
Obi-Wan stepped closer, sniffling.  
  
His rasping breaths were haunting in the thick darkness.  
  
And without thinking, Qui-Gon reached out for that presence, immersed in suffering. Reached out for Obi-Wan, strong arms seeking the trembling body.  
  
His fingers closed around the Padawan's, and Qui-Gon pulled him forward, until he was sitting beside him.  
  
A strip of light fell upon Obi-Wan's face, and the perfect beads of moisture trickling from bleary eyes.  
  
Qui-Gon wiped one of the delicate drops away, leaving a glistening trail on a golden cheek.  
  
Obi-Wan bowed his head, a small gasp escaping.  
  
The Master gripped his slumped shoulders. "Obi-Wan? What's wrong?"  
  
The younger man inhaled weakly, shuddering, lifting his miserable gaze. He stared at Qui-Gon a moment, lips tight in trembling resolve.  
  
Then he collapsed against the stalwart chest, engulfed in sobs.  
  
^^^^*^^^^  
  
Qui-Gon sat, back propped against the wall, Obi-Wan's head resting on his stomach.  
  
The apprentice was staring vacantly into the distance, rivers dried on his cheeks, while fresh moisture quivered on the edge of sooty lashes.  
  
There were no words exchanged once the wild cries subsided. Still, the Master could not pressure him, and settled in this position for the wait.  
  
A tiny inhale---then a husky, soft voice. "I want to stay here forever." He whispered.  
  
Qui-Gon sighed, smoothing the hair out of Obi-Wan's face. "I know you do." He said. "So do I."  
  
Wide, red-stained eyes met his. "R-Really?"  
  
He smiled sadly, nodding.  
  
This seemed to strengthen Obi-Wan somewhat, he straightened, rubbing at his face with the heel of his hand, reminding Qui-Gon of someone much smaller, much younger. "That's wrong, Master. It's a betrayal.isn't it?"  
  
"No. Maybe if I walked up to Master Yoda and kicked his shins, and threw his saber out the window, it could be called betrayal."  
  
This rather awkward, and thoroughly hilarious, visual was rewarded with a gentle chuckle.  
  
"But all you want is a happy, simpler life when you're here, Obi-Wan. As we all do, as the whole Universe does." He caressed a damp cheek. "It's just not how it works. Despite everyone's prayers, and fervent wishes, we can never stay here forever.  
  
"But it can stay with us." He laid a hand over Obi-Wan's heart. "Here. And we leave remnants of ourselves here. Our moments of laughter, tears. The charred stove."  
  
Obi-Wan grinned.  
  
Qui-Gon felt his own heart lift at the sight. "It's as much as we can have."  
  
"But.is that enough?"  
  
The Master gathered him into his arms. "It has to be."  
  
^^^^*^^^^  
  
Two days later found them standing in the quaint main room, clutching their small travel packs.  
  
The apprentice sighed, studying the walls, fireplace, couch.trying to imprint the memory, a perfect vision, in his mind.  
  
Qui-Gon's midnight blue eyes swept along the knick-knack-lined mantle, then to the kitchen, which yielded a smirk and quiet chuckle.  
  
The Temple was home, but this.truly this place was his heart.  
  
He turned to Obi-Wan, and wasn't surprised to find a wash of tears in jeweled eyes. "Remember what I told you." The man murmured, pulling the morose youth into an embrace.  
  
Obi-Wan clutched his back, allowing the moisture to pool on his cheeks, uncaring. His chest swelled with ache.  
  
After another moment, Qui-Gon released him, wiping a single tear with a callused thumb. "Wait outside. I'll be along in a minute."  
  
The Padawan nodded, sniffling, taking long gazes, drinking in the cozy setting one last time.  
  
Qui-Gon waited for the door to shut behind him, then moved briskly to a dark mahogany bookshelf. He slid the holo-album out and flipped through the wide pages, until he came to an empty section.  
  
He produced a holo from his belt, mounting it to the sticky surface, and settled the plastic cover over it.  
  
This was the book of his family. It would not have been complete without him.  
  
On the final page of the tattered album, a picture of Obi-Wan, sleeping peacefully on the transport, would remain, through the years.even when neither Master nor apprentice could no longer return to see it.  
  
Qui-Gon smiled, shutting the book, and returning it to the shelf.  
  
He hurried to meet Obi-Wan.  
  
^^^^*^^^^  
  
Tahl covered her yawn with a delicate, tan hand, then took a sip of her steaming tea as she walked.  
  
The Creche was tranquil and silent, save for the gentle coos of the resting babies.  
  
She stopped when she saw them, her weary eyes twinkling with love.  
  
Qui-Gon was still sitting on the rocker, the ginger-locked tot nestled against his broad chest.  
  
Both were fast asleep.and utterly content.  
  
THE END. 


End file.
